Got Milk?
by Elf Eye
Summary: An elfling 'Anomen' story in "The Nameless One" series.
1. Got Milk?

**Folks, you can blame Joee for this digression from "Returning from the Dead."  Joee has been keen for me to follow up on an episode in which Glorfindel advises Anomen to ask Erestor about the source of the milk that nourishes newborn elflings.  In this story, Anomen and the other elflings get their answer.  As for "Returning from the Dead," the next chapter is nearly complete and should be posted by midweek.**

****

Vocabulary

ecthel—'point'

laes—'babe'

tachol—'pin'

            After a vigorous afternoon of training with sword and bow, Elladan, Elrohir, and Anomen had betaken themselves to a pond both to bathe and to play.  After splashing about vigorously for awhile, Anomen was floating comfortably upon his back, gazing up at the clouds.  They reminded him of the creatures that came wafting from Mithrandir's lips as he puffed upon his pipe.

            "There's a dragon," he thought dreamily.  "And that's Glorfindel's great stallion.  Oh, and yonder is a seagull soaring upon the wind."

            At that moment, a breeze blew across the pond.  Anomen shivered and glanced down at his body.

"I wonder what those are for," he said idly.

            "What?" said Elladan, paddling closer.

            "The pair of nubs on our chests.  Eyes are for seeing, noses for smelling, mouths for eating, ears for hearing.  We use our hands for grasping, we run with our legs, and we make water with the _ecthel_.

            "The _tachol_ in your case," snickered Elrohir, who had by now swum near.

            Anomen sent a plume of water in his direction.

            "Seriously, Elrohir.  Why do we have these nubs if they don't _do_ anything?"

            "Actually," said Elladan, "you can get them to do _something_."

            "What?" chorused Anomen and Elrohir together.

            "If you rub them, they grow——it's kind of fun, really.  Gives you a shiver."

            "Oh, that," scoffed Elrohir.  "That's nothing.  _I_ have discovered that if you rub, um, if you rub**….**" Elrohir trailed off.

            "What!?" cried Anomen and Elladan.

            Elrohir had gone red all the way to the tip of his pointed ears.

            "Never mind," he muttered and then dove under the water.  When he resurfaced, Elladan and Anomen were still in earnest discussion over the mysterious nubs.

            "But Erestor is our tutor," Anomen was arguing.  "Who better to ask than our tutor?"

            "He is our tutor, yes," agreed Elladan, "but if a question isn't on his list of topics——the scroll he calls the _curriculum_——you know very well that he won't agree to spend time on it.  He'll probably scold us to boot, or maybe even set us an essay on 'Why I should not try to distract my master from questions that really matter'."

            "But the _curriculum_ covers 'natural history', does it not," Anomen pointed out.

            "Ye-es."

            "Natural history," declaimed Anomen in his best imitation of Erestor, "encompasses, among other matters, the study of living creatures——their anatomy, their diets, their behavior."

            "So?" said Elladan stubbornly

            "So, troll-brain, we are living creatures, correct?"

            "Yes."

            "We have anatomies, correct?"

            "Yes."

            "Our anatomies include these nubs, correct?"

            Elladan sighed.

            "Yes."

            "Ergo," declared Anomen triumphantly, "anatomy encompasses the study of these nubs!"

            Elrohir had now swum near again.

            "Anomen," he said slyly.  "I am impressed by your reasoning."

            Anomen was instantly on guard.

            "And?" he said cautiously.

            "By your reasoning, every single part of our body would be included in the study of anatomy."

            "Ye-es?"

            "Ergo, I dare you to ask Erestor about——"

            "No!" shouted Anomen and Elladan simultaneously.

            "You know very well, Elrohir," said Elladan indignantly, "that Erestor will have each of us fill an entire scroll with the sentence 'I shall not be impertinent'.  We will be copying till the turn of the moon!"

            "Oh, very well," grumbled Elrohir.  "But I hope, Anomen," he added, brightening, "that you do ask him about those nubs.  I can't see any harm in it, and it will distract him for a time.  It will probably take him at least an hour to explain why he won't explain."

            "I don't agree," replied Elladan.  "It may take him an hour, but he'll get the lost time back in spades by assigning us that essay."

            "I think Elrohir is right," said Anomen.  "For once," he added, grinning.

Anomen rolled over unto his stomach and swam for the shore.  Once there, he hauled himself onto the bank and seized Elrohir and Elladan's clothes, waving them tauntingly in the air.

"Do you remember how you stole my clothes whilst I was swimming?"

"Which time?" Elrohir called back cheerfully.

"The time I became trapped in a badger hole."

"Well, nobody told you to go crawling into a badger hole," shouted Elladan.

"You know very well that I was hiding from Arwen so she wouldn't see me naked."

"Oh," retorted Elrohir, "you shouldn't have minded so much being seen naked."

"Ah, if that is case," Anomen shot back, "then I guess it wouldn't bother you to have to walk back to the Hall in your natal garment."

"Uh oh, Elrohir, I guess we walked right into that one," moaned Elladan.

"Swam into it, is more like it," muttered Elrohir.

His point made, Anomen tossed the clothes back on to the bank and began to pull on his own.  Elladan and Elrohir soon joined him, and the three, chattering happily, made for the Hall.  The sun and their own stomachs told them that supper drew near.

At breakfast next morning Elrond noticed that the three young Elves were more animated than usual.  The elflings always shimmered with energy, but today they wriggled and jostled as if in anticipation of some great celebration.  They were also whispering, which was frowned upon at table only a little less than wearing one's hood.  Elrond cleared his throat.

"Erestor," he said, "I hope your pupils have been acquitting themselves honorably in the classroom."

The table fell silent.  All heads swiveled toward the venerable tutor, who, delighted at the audience, began to smugly hold forth upon the progress of his students.  After a few minutes of this, Elrond interrupted gently.

"I am glad to hear that they are doing well," he said, "and I trust that they will continue to do so."

As the Lord of Imladris uttered this final sentiment, he stared hard at the threesome under discussion.  The elflings dropped their eyes and studied their plates.  Later, as they walked together toward the library in the wake of their tutor, Elladan whispered, "Anomen, I don't think you'd better ask about those nubs."

"Nonsense," objected Elrohir softly.  "Anomen would be doing well to ask about them.  The question will show his curiosity in the subject matter.  Erestor ought to be pleased.  Hasn't he been telling us we should demonstrate more interest in our studies?"

Both the elflings looked at Anomen.  Suddenly that elfling felt reckless.  After all, he had faced Orcs and wargs.  What was a tutor compared to such foes?

"I am going to ask," he declared.

Elladan looked appalled; Elrohir looked excited.  Either they would get an answer, which would be interesting, or Erestor would be horrified which would be——interesting.

The first portion of the morning was devoted to mastering Westron grammar.

"Now you must understand," lectured Erestor, "that Men have developed a very convoluted——not to say awkward!——way of conveying tense.  This is to be expected, as they _are_ Men and so of course do not come at things from the elven point of view.  In today's lesson, we will cover the _simplepresent_and_simplepast_.  We will also be covering the _presentprogressivepastprogressive_and_futureprogressive_.  Of course, no study of Westron grammar would be complete without an examination of the _presentperfectpastperfect_and_futureperfect_, not to mention the _present-perfectprogressivepast-perfectprogressive_and_future-perfectprogressive._  We will leave until the morrow," the tutor added, "our investigation of future time shown via use of the modal."

            The eyes of each elfling had glazed over, and of course Erestor could not tell if they were sleeping or daydreaming.  He rapped upon his desk.  The elflings jumped, and their eyes came back into focus.

            "Master Erestor," exclaimed Anomen impetuously, "I have a question."

            Erestor looked at him fondly.

"About the simple, progressive, or perfect tense, my lad?"

"None of those, Master Erestor!"

"Now, now, Anomen," said Erestor kindly, "you'll only confuse yourself if you ask about the modal.  You mustn't get ahead of yourself, you know!"

"It's not about that, Master Erestor.  It's about——nubs!"

"Nubs?"

"The nubs on our chests."

"The nubs on your chests?"

"Yes, Master Erestor.  Why do we have nubs on our chests?"

"Whatever are you talking about!?"

"Oh, bother," muttered Elrohir.  He arose and yanked up his tunic.

"These nubs, Master Erestor!  That's what Anomen means!"

"Yes!" exclaimed Elladan, likewise leaping up and lifting his tunic.  "The only thing they do is swell a bit if you rub them.  Whatever are they for?"

Erestor gasped.

"Elladan, you mustn't rub your nubs!"

"Why not, Master Erestor," asked the bewildered elfling.

"Because, because——if you do you'll damage your eyesight!  You'll see no better than a Man!"

Now it was the elflings' turn to gasp.  Elrohir was particularly horrified.  He looked as pale as a wraith.

"Um, Master Erestor," he said nervously, "if nub-rubbing damages your eyesight, what will happen if you, if you, um if you——"

"You'll go blind altogether!" exclaimed Erestor.  "Elrohir, how could you!?"

"Well, you never covered the matter under Natural History," whined Elrohir.  "How were we to know!?"

Elrohir had a point, Erestor realized.  However, he firmly believed that it would not be in keeping with the dignity of an instructor to make such an admission.

"You know now," he growled.  "And just so you never forget, each of you take out a scroll.  I want to you to copy the sentence, 'I will not rub my nubs or anything else'.  You may not stop until you have filled both sides of the scroll——and you needn't write in extra large letters or leave spaces between the lines.  If you do, I'll make you start all over again with a fresh scroll!"

Anomen and Elladan shot accusing looks at Elrohir, but he was too miserable to notice.  He was busy rubbing his eyes and squinting at various objects to see how clear they appeared.

"Next time I _will_ steal his clothes," Anomen muttered to Elladan.

"And I'll help you," Elladan whispered back.

When the time came for the noon meal, Erestor sent a message informing Elrond that the elflings had been unavoidably detained.  ("Have been detained," muttered Erestor as he wrote, "present-perfect progressive.  Passive, of course.")  The hungry elflings were only dismissed in order to allow them to make a dash to the training fields for weapons practice.  They arrived on time, but just barely.  Glorfindel glowered at them as, panting for breath, they took their places on the archery line.

"Arriving on time means being prepared to start your lesson," he growled.  "I do not know how you expect to be able to aim accurately when you are gasping for breath!"

Anomen was feeling rather desperate.

"Lord Glorindel," he said, "don't you think elflings ought to be allowed to ask questions?"

"_You_ have just done so," retorted the balrog-slayer.  Then, noticing how woeful Anomen looked, he softened his manner.

"Would I be correct in assuming that you asked Lord Erestor a question that he did not appreciate?  Which of course accounts for your absence from the noon meal.  You were being punished, were you not?"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel," Anomen said miserably.

"What did you ask?"

Anomen hesitated.  The three elflings looked at each other.

"Um, your pardon, Lord Glorfindel," said Elladan nervously, "but if we tell you, won't you punish us, too?"

"I am your weapons-master.  I punish you for an altogether different set of transgressions than does your tutor."

This was true, as the elflings had good reason to know.

Anomen took a deep breath.

"We wanted to know what nubs are for."

"Nubs?"

Elrohir sighed resignedly.  Here they went again.  He pulled up his tunic and pointed.

"We each have a pair of these on our chest and can't figure out what they are good for."

"Yes," chimed in Elladan.  "They don't seem to do much of anything, um, under ordinary circumstances, that is."

"Oh, you may find them useful when you get older," said Glorfindel, smiling.  "The elf-maidens surely will find them handy, but many male Elves will as well, although for different reasons."

The elflings stared at him.  Eyes, ears, noses, mouths, hands, legs, yes, even the _ecthel_, were useful right now.  Whatever would those little nubs ever be good for?

Glorfindel was chuckling, apparently over some memory.

"Do you know," he said at last, "that Lord Erestor used to have the nickname 'Erector'? ——but, if I were you," he warned, "I wouldn't let on that you know that!"

'Erector'?  What an odd nickname!

"Anomen, do you remember that you had to drink milk when you journeyed with me to Bree?"

Yes, Anomen remembered, and he also recalled how surprised he had been when Glorfindel told him that the liquid in his cup came from cows.  Glorfindel also had said that as a _laes_ Anomen had undoubtedly lived on milk but that the milk he had had at that time would not have come from cows.  An elven baby is a rare creature, and Anomen had no first hand knowledge of how one was raised (not even an Elf can remember his own infancy!).  He had wondered then, and he wondered now, where the milk had come from if not from cows.  Glorfindel had told him to ask Erestor, but he hadn't and now he would never dare.  He sighed.  Milk would have to remain a mystery.  Unless**….**

"Lord Glorfindel," he pleaded, "you told me to ask Lord Erestor about the source of the milk that baby elflings drink, but you know very well that he will never answer such a question."

"Oh, but surely such a topic falls under the heading of Natural History, does it not?" teased Glorfindel.

Anomen had a sudden inspiration.

"Lord Glorfindel, if I ask that question, I am sure that Lord Erestor will set us to copying every day for months.  We will forever be rushing late to the fields.  We will be perpetually out of breath, and we will not do credit to your excellent instruction!" 

Glorfindel chuckled again.  Such clever reasoning demanded a response.

"I am your riding master as well as your weapons-master, am I not?"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel," chorused the elflings.

"As your question pertains to horses, I believe I am qualified to answer it."

The elflings stared at one another.  How had they gotten onto the subject of horses?

"As you know, horses, like Elves, come in two forms: the male or stallion, and the female or mare."

"Three forms," said Elladan.  "There is also the gelding."

"The gelding," replied Glorfindel, "is naught but a stallion with some parts removed.  For our purposes, we shall agree that horses have but two genders."

The elflings nodded.

"As you also know, mares give birth to foals, and the foals do not at first eat grass.  Isn't that so, Anomen?"

"Yes.  The mares sustain their foals.  They pass on their strength by allowing the foals to suckle."

"Excellent.  Now what is it, exactly, that the mares pass on to the foals?"

"I have said so.  Their strength."

"Hmm.  Tell me, Anomen, how can the mare pass on her strength to her foal?  Does not the mare's strength reside in her muscles?"

"Yes."

"Do the mare's muscles dwindle as the foal suckles?"

"No.  But Erestor said that strength was what flowed between the mare and the foal."

"That's _Lord_ Erestor to you.  Anomen, you must understand that Lord Erestor is a master of metaphor.  It is true that, metaphorically speaking, strength flows from mare to foal.  In addition, however, a liquid passes between the two."

"Milk!" shouted Elladan triumphantly.

"Yes, Elladan, milk."

"But a horse is not a cow," argued Anomen.

"All creatures that grow fur feed their newborns with milk from their bodies.  The deer, the wolves, the squirrels, the mice, even the bat."

"Lord Glorfindel," said Elrohir slowly.  "We braid our horses' manes as we do our hair.  Is hair a kind of fur?"

"Yes, Elrohir, it is."

"Sooo," continued Elrohir, "_we_ are creatures that grow fur."

"That is correct."

"So we feed our newborns with milk exactly the way horses do."

"That is also correct."

The truth was beginning to dawn upon Anomen.

"Glorfindel, is a nub the same thing as a teat?"

"Exactly, although, when we refer to Elves, we usually call them 'nipples'."

"So when the elf-maidens grow up, um, they will, ah——"

"Some of them will suckle infants, Anomen."

Anomen suddenly recognized that there was a gap in this story, at least as far as his own infancy was concerned.

"Lord Glorfindel, my mother died when I was born."

"I am sorry to hear that, Anomen."

The elfling realized then that he had let slip a secret that he had been carefully guarding.  The more details that emerged about his past, the more likely he would be discovered.  Well, it was done.  He might as well ask his question.  Glorfindel, however, had anticipated it.

"You want to know how you survived when you had no Naneth to suckle you."

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel."

"If for any reason an elfling cannot take milk from his Naneth, another elf-matron who has milk will stand in for her.  Undoubtedly you were entrusted to the care of a wet-nurse, as such an elf-matron is called."

That would have been his Edwen Nana, Anomen realized.

"Thank you, Lord Glorfindel."

"I still have a question," Elrohir declared.

"Yes, Elrohir?"

"You have explained why an elleth would have nubs, ah, 'nipples', but _we_ are not going to suckle infants.  Why then do we have them?"

"The male and female forms are mirror images.  Every part on the male has its corresponding part on the female."

"But Lord Glorfindel," objected Elrohir, "an elleth does not have an _ecthel_."

"I said 'corresponding part', Elrohir.  I did not say identical part.  The elleth does indeed have her own version of the _ecthel_, which she takes as much pleasure in as you do yours."

Elrohir blushed.  Glorfindel's answer was hitting rather too near the mark, so to speak.

"It doesn't seem fair, though," said Elladan thoughtfully, "that an elleth's nipples will turn out to be so useful when ours will not."

"Tell me, Elladan, is a song useful?"

"Not in the same way as a sword is."

"Yet we value the song nonetheless.  Why?'

"Because it gives us pleasure," Elladan answered promptly.

"Indeed.  So value your nipples.  I am sure that when the time comes you will enjoy them quite as much as any song!  And speaking of time, this conversation has been fascinating and I hope enlightening, but we do need to devote at least part of the afternoon to training with traditional weapons, wouldn't you agree.  You have," Glorfindel added teasingly, "had an opportunity to catch your breath, have you not?"

"Yes, Lord Glorfindel," chorused the elflings obediently throwing themselves into their training with a will.  Watching them, Glorfindel grinned with delight.

"Oh, 'Erector', you haven't seen the end of it yet," he said to himself.  "No, indeed, you have not!"

After all, the balrog-slayer mused, the elflings had overlooked one very important question.  They now knew how infants were nourished—but it had not occurred to them to ask where babies came from in the first place.

"As that is assuredly a matter for Natural History, I shall have to do something about encouraging their interest in the subject," chortled Glorfindel, "for I should dearly like to hear how 'Erector' reacts when _that_ topic come up!"

Had 'Erector' seen the gleam in the balrog-slayer's eyes, he would have certainly gone to Elrond and begged for an assignment to an Orc-hunting troop.  However, Reader, he did not, and so I leave you to imagine the sequel.  Stay well, my friends.


	2. Getting To The Point

Thanks to the following for their kind responses to the first chapter: _MoroTheWolfGod__, Kitsune, Jebb, Farflung, Karri, _and, of course, _Joee__.  Kitsune _and _Farflung_, you seemed to want a sequel, so here it is!

            Anomen, Elrohir, and Elladan had successfully mounted their latest raid and were in the forest celebrating their victory.

            "Did you see his face when I leapt out from the other side?" exulted Elrohir.

            "Oh, yes," replied Elladan.  "He knew it was all over then.  There was no way he could deal with both of us simultaneously."

            "And, Anomen," continued Elrohir, "he never even saw you coming."

            "Or going," added Elladan.

            "Yes," agreed Elrohir.  "Anomen, your stealth and speed are a great asset."

            Anomen grinned, but he did not answer.  He was too busy trying to clean the red stickiness from his hands.

            "Why don't you just lick them clean?" suggested Elrohir.

            Anomen made a face.

            "Elrohir, that's disgusting!"

            "I don't see why," replied Elrohir.  "By the way, there's a lot of it around your mouth, too.  You look as if you've been stuffing your face with it."

            "How vulgar!  'Stuffing my face', indeed!"

            "Oh, very well.  'Devouring', 'gulping', 'wolfing'.  There, does that satisfy you?"

            Elladan snickered.

"Why, Elrohir, you sound just like Erestor.  I did not know that you shared our tutor's love of synonyms!  But all of this talk of eating is making me hungry.  Do any of the spoils of our battle still remain?"

Elrohir passed him the plate on which sat the remnants of the fruit pie that they had purloined from the kitchen.  As Elladan demolished these broken bits, they continued their discussion of the sortie.

"I would say," giggled Elrohir, "that the Cook's efforts to beat back our raid were absolutely 'fruitless'."

"Yes," agreed Anomen, "but you must admit that there was one point at which you were 'in a jam', Elrohir."

"Aye," conceded Elrohir, "when the Cook trapped me 'twixt the oven and the trestle table.  I feared then that 'my goose was cooked'!"

"Luckily, the Cook ended up with 'egg on his face'," crowed Elladan, who was responsible for said egg, "and then he looked as if he would 'lay an egg'!"

"The Cook was so furious that he surely wanted to 'skin' us," gasped Anomen, who was now laughing so hard that he could scarcely draw breath.

"Yes," agreed Elladan, "and then we would have been 'in a real pickle'!"

"But," chortled Elrohir, "Anomen shouted, 'If you can't stand the heat, get out of the kitchen'!"

That had been the agreed-upon signal for the elflings to retreat, and off they had scampered, but not 'fruitlessly'!

"You may be certain," giggled Elladan, "that the Cook is 'stewing' over our success."

"And no doubt," added Elrohir, "he is 'brewing' something to pay us back.

"True," said Anomen, "but you know what Men say: 'you can't make an omelet without breaking an egg'!"

All three of them were now rolling upon the ground laughing.  At length they calmed themselves.  Anomen sat up first.

"I am still sticky," he announced.

"Well," suggested Elrohir, "why don't we go swimming?"

"Yes," agreed Elladan.  "Let's.  It isn't safe for us to be seen in the vicinity of the Hall, anyway, so we might as well while away the time in one of the ponds."

At that they arose and made their way to one of their favorite bathing places.  Once there, carelessly kicking off their boots and stripping off their clothes, they dove into the water and began to splash and duck each other.  At last, tiring of their play, they climbed out onto the bank and lounged about in the warm sun to dry themselves.

As he sat basking, Anomen began to muse.

"I have been wondering," said Anomen thoughtfully, "we now know how newborn elflings are nourished, but where do those elflings come from in the first place?"

"Crotches of trees," Elladan answered automatically.  His nursemaid had told him that tale long ago, and he'd never thought to question it.

"Don't be silly," scoffed Elrohir.  "The only thing that comes out of the crotches of trees is leaf litter."

"I think Elrohir is right," said Anomen.  "Remember that Glorfindel told us Elves have somewhat in common with horses and other creatures with fur."

"Ye-es," said Elladan nervously.  He suspected he knew where Anomen would be taking this analogy.

"Well, you know that foals slip out of the bottoms of mares, don't you, so—"

"Eeeeeww!" shrieked Elladan and Elrohir in unison.  "How could you suggest such a thing!?"

"It's not _my_ fault," said Anomen defensively.  "What if it's true?"

"I wonder," said Elladan thoughtfully, "how the foal gets insides the mare in the first place?"

"If it can get out," observed Elrohir, "it can get in.  Besides, the foal starts out smaller than it ends up.  That would make it easier for it to get in.  You know as well as I that the mare's belly swells over a period of time.  That must be because the foal is growing inside."

"Maybe the foal doesn't have to get in," suggested Anomen.  "Maybe it is inside the mare the whole time and just finally starts growing for some reason."

Elrohir shook his head.

"I don't see how that is possible.  The horsemasters are always talking about how such and such a horse has its father's bloodline.  They wouldn't say that if the foal came from the mare.  So the foal must come from the stallion, and somehow it gets inside the mare."

"No," said Elladan, disagreeing.  "The horsemasters talk about the mare's bloodline, too.  The foal must come from the mare!"

 "I think Elladan is right," argued Anomen.  "There wouldn't be any use for mares if stallions had foals inside them.  We've got nipples.  The stallions must have them, too, somewhere under their coats.  If they had the foals already inside them and they have teats, they might as well birth the foals and suckle them.  But they don't!  That must be why there are mares."

"Maybe," mused Elrohir, "half the foal is in the stallion, and the other half is in the mare.  That would explain why a foal resembles both the stallion and the mare."

"That would work," agreed Anomen enthusiastically.  "So the foal would start growing whenever the two halves combine!"

"But we still don't know how that happens," observed Elladan with a sigh.

"I think I know," announced Elrohir grandly.

Elladan and Anomen gazed expectantly at him.

Elrohir lowered his voice.

"I think it's the ecthel."

"The ecthel!"

"Yes, I think somehow the stallion's ecthel puts its half of the foal inside the mare."

"Elrohir, an ecthel is for making water!" exclaimed Elladan.  "What you suggest is not possible!"

"Oh, yes, it is!" insisted Elrohir.  "Haven't you ever noticed what stallions do with their ecthels early in the spring?"

"Ye-es."

"Well, then," said Elrohir triumphantly.  "There you have it.  And," he continued, "since Elves are like horses, we must do something similar."

"I don't think so," said Elladan doubtfully.  "In the spring, a stallion's ecthel becomes very large, and it no longer hangs loosely underneath the horse.  Instead, it points up.  Come springtime, I have never noticed any such change in my ecthel.  Nor in yours, either!" 

Anomen looked down at himself.  He agreed with Elladan.  He was sure that his rubbery, flexible ecthel was nothing like a stallion's.  He reached down to prod it.

"Don't touch it!" shrieked Elladan.

"I wasn't going to rub it," said Anomen resentfully.  "I was just trying to get a better look.  Anyway, I touch it when I make water, and no one has ever warned me against doing that."

Still, Anomen let go of his ecthel and sat with knees drawn up peering down at it.  Elrohir and Elladan did likewise.  And that is how Glorfindel found them a short time later when he arrived at the pond to bathe after a hot, dusty day on the training fields.  So intent were the elflings on their ecthels, that they never heard him draw near.   Of course, let it be said in their defense that Glorfindel was an Elf warrior trained in stealth, so even had they been paying attention to their surroundings, they might never have marked his approach.

"Whatever are you doing!?"

Three elfling heads shot up, and three elfling faces blushed to the very tips of their pointed ears.

"Ah, ah, ah," stammered Elrohir, "we were sitting in the sun to dry ourselves, and we thought we would pass the time by looking at our belly buttons."

Glorfindel stared suspiciously at the elflings.  Contemplating their navels?  Surely only Men would engage in such foolishness!

"Well, stop doing it," he commanded peremptorily, "else you'll grow cross-eyed."

Aghast, the elflings stared at one another.  A further threat to their vision!  Were there any other means by which they had been unknowingly imperiling their eyesight!?

By now Glorfindel had finished stripping.  He waded into the pond, then jackknifed and dove under the water.

"Did you notice," whispered Elladan, "that Glorfindel's ecthel is bigger than ours?"

"Of course it is," scoffed Elrohir.  "His everything is bigger than ours."

"No," replied Elladan, offended, "I meant _proportionately_.  Haven't you learned anything at all from Erestor!?"

"No more than I can avoid," grumbled Elrohir.

"I think Elladan is right," declared Anomen.  "Glorfindel's ecthel is not only _absolutely_ but _relatively_ larger than ours."

"So there!" said Elladan triumphantly.

"Moreover," Anomen continued, "it looks different."

"Shhhh," Elladan warned frantically.  "He's surfacing."

Glorfindel came up for air to find three elflings solemnly observing him.

"You are dry now.  Put on your clothes and be off!"

The elflings seized their clothes and scampered away, not stopping to dress until they were nearly to the Hall.

It was lucky that the pie they had filched was a large one, for they got no supper that night.  Instead, they spent the dinner hour in the kitchen, under the baleful eye of the Head Cook.  There was flour to be swept up, egg to be scrubbed from the floor and the tables, boxes and bowls to be restacked, potatoes to be picked up and replaced in baskets.  Above all, there were pots to be scoured.  It was very late when the elflings staggered into the room that they shared.

"I'm hungry," whimpered Elladan.  "I did not think our Ada would be so exacting in his punishment."

"Nor I," confessed Elrohir.  "He seems to become stricter with the passage of time."

"By the Valar," said Anomen sarcastically, "I wonder _why_ he should behave so.  You don't suppose the older we get, the better he expects us to behave?"

Elrohir threw a bolster at Anomen, who promptly threw it back.

"I'm still hungry," moaned Elladan.

Anomen drew forth from his tunic three small loaves.

"Anomen," exclaimed Elladan, "wherever did you get those!?"

"You troll-brain," Anomen replied fondly.  "We spent the entire evening in a kitchen!"

He tossed each of his brothers a loaf and began to eat his own.

"Anomen," said Elrohir, "now you really are 'stuffing your face'."

"I won't deny it this time," Anomen muttered through a mouthful of bread.  "I'm famished!"

Their hunger much reduced, they changed into nightdresses and climbed into their beds.  As they lay there waiting for sleep to take them, they resumed their earlier conversation.

"Elladan," said Elrohir, "you said that you thought that Glorfindel's ecthel was _proportionately_ larger than ours, isn't that so?"

"Yes," said Elladan smugly, "and Anomen, who must have been paying attention to the lesson that day, agreed that it was!"

"Well, then," Elrohir pointed out, "if that is so, then a grown Elf's ecthel may be quite different from an elfling's ecthel."

"And your point is?"

"That even if your ecthel doesn't grow larger and stand up in the springtime, mayhap when you are no longer an elfling, it will!  Ergo, someday you will behave like a stallion with a mare, and that is how the elfling will get started inside the Elleth!  Besides," Elrohir added, "I happen to know from, ah, first-hand experience that even an elfling's ecthel can on occasion grow a little and stick out a trifle more." 

Elrohir's logic and evidence seemed irrefutable at first, but soon Elladan perceived a weakness in his case.

"Elrohir, you have seen springtime come and go for many a year, have you not?"

"Ye-es."

"Tell me, in the springtime, have you ever seen an Elleth giving an Elf a pick-a-back ride?"

Elrohir had to confess that he had not.  Indeed, Elladan forced him to concede that he had never at any time seen an Elleth giving an Elf a pick-a-back ride.

"So much for your theory," crowed Elladan, "for the mares always give the stallions pick-a-back rides."

At that moment they heard the door creaking open, and each elfling dove under his covers to disguise the fact that his eyes were not glazed over in sleep.  Of course, the fact that their quilts were pulled over their heads was itself sign enough to Elrond that his sons were still awake.  He drew back the covers and kissed each elfling in turn.  Then he adjured them to talk no longer.

"Remember that I have excellent hearing," he warned them as he stood in the doorway.  "No more chattering."

With that, the elflings subsided, but of course the matter was not at an end.

The next morning the elflings were delighted to learn that Mithrandir had arrived during the night.

"Oh ho," gloated Elrohir.  "Now our question will be answered.  Mithrandir is very wise."

"What makes you think that he will tell us anything?" challenged Anomen.

"And why would he not?" Elrohir retorted.

"Because he is not an Elf.  I do not think that wizards enter Arda in the same fashion as do Elves."

"It won't hurt to ask," Elladan pointed out.

After being badgered for a time by both Elrohir and Elladan, Anomen reluctantly agreed that they should ask Mithrandir to explain how elflings come to be inside Elleths.  They waited until after supper, when the wizard went into the garden to smoke his pipe.  (Elrond had lately gently suggested to the Istar that it would be better if he smoked outside whenever the weather permitted.)

Following Mithrandir into the garden, the three elflings stood in a row in front of the Istar and stared at him.  No one wanted to be the first to speak.  The wizard gazed back at them.  He was glad to have the pipe to occupy him, else he would have been laughing helplessly, so timorous the elflings looked.  At last he removed the pipe from his mouth. 

"Well?" he said.

"Um, Mithrandir," ventured Elrohir, "we have a question."

"So I see.  And it is?"

"Uh, we were wondering," Elrohir went on nervously, "we were wondering whether you would explain something to us."

"Perhaps.  If you ever get around to asking me something, that is."

"Mithrandir," blurted out Anomen, who wanted to get it over with, "howdobabiesgetinside?"

"What?"

"Howdobabiesgetinside!?"

Mithrandir shook his head in bewilderment.  Elladan sighed.

"How.  Do.  Babies.  Get.  Inside?"

Mithrandir pretended not to understand the question.

"Until they are old enough to walk, they must be carried inside."

"No! No! No!" clamored the elflings.  "How do the babies get inside the mother before they come out of the mother?"

"Oh, that.  Well, I must tell you, I don't know nothing about birthing babies."

The elflings stood puzzling over this sentence.  Was Mithrandir saying that he did or did _not_ know anything about the process by which elflings entered the world?

"Mithrandir," said Anomen, "do you mean that you know about birthing babies, or do you mean that you don't know about birthing babies?"

Mithrandir had resumed smoking his pipe.  Now he once again took his pipe's stem out of his mouth.

"Yes," he said serenely.

The elflings looked at one another.  Mithrandir plainly had no intention of speaking, well, plainly.  Disconsolate, they retreated from the garden.

 The next morning, Elrohir declared that he was going to take up the matter with their tutor.

"He's supposed to be teaching us Natural History."

Horrified, Elladan and Anomen urged him to abandon his plan.

"Don't you remember what happened the last time, when we asked him about nipples?" Elladan said desperately.

"Yes," Anomen chimed in.  "You are going to get us all into worse trouble this time!"

"I don't care," declared Elrohir stubbornly.  "I don't see why we shouldn't be allowed to ask a perfectly innocent question!"

Elrohir sat patiently through arithmetic, astronomy, grammar, history, and rhetoric.  When at last Erestor reached for a tome on natural history, Elrohir boldly spoke up.

"Master Erestor, I have a question regarding Natural History."

"Do you, Elrohir?  Good!  Good!  Curiosity is a commendable quality in a young Elf.  Pray state your question."

"What starts an elfling growing in an Elleth?"

Erestor turned pale, then red.  Under the tutor's indignant eye, Elrohir felt himself shriveling up as his ecthel did when he plunged into cold water.  Then, to the elfling's surprise, Erestor suddenly changed tack.

"I suppose," the tutor sighed, "that you will never attend to your lessons until your curiosity is satisfied.  Very well, then.  Listen carefully.  I am only going to tell you this once."

Erestor cleared his throat.

"When an Elf loves an Elleth," he began.

An hour later three very dazed elflings trooped out of the library and into the garden.  Once there, they threw themselves upon the grass and lay staring up at the clouds.  It was a long time before any of them spoke.  At last Anomen broke the silence.

"So an Elleth has a sheath, and the Elf puts his sword in her sheath."

Elladan shook his head bemusedly.

"Have you ever known an Elleth to wear a sheath?"

"No," said Anomen, "but maybe she only straps on the sheath when the Elf wants to use it for his sword."

"But I do not see," argued Elrohir, "what the connection is between a sheath and a sword and a baby.  So an Elf puts his sword in an Elleth's sheath instead of his own sheath.  How would that cause an elfling to grow inside the Elleth?  Besides, if the Elf left his sword in her sheath, he might not have it when he needed it.  What if he encountered an Orc when his sword was in her sheath.  That would be very bad!"

Elladan and Anomen nodded their heads vigorously in agreement.  Putting one's sword in an Elleth's sheath would be very foolish indeed.

"Also," Elladan put in, "I don't understand why the Elf would talk in such a peculiar fashion.  Why would the Elf 'ejaculate'?  That is a very formal way to speak, is it not?"

 "Yes," agreed Anomen.  "It is a very old fashioned verb for the act of enunciating.  But then Erestor is a very old fashioned Elf."

"True," conceded Elladan.

Elrohir shook his head gloomily.

"I wonder what he meant by 'water breaking'.  How could water break?  It can be spilled, but I don't see how it could be broken.  Only hard objects can break, really. And," Elrohir went on, "I also am puzzled by the 'room' he kept talking about."

"I don't remember him saying anything about a room," objected Anomen.

"Oh, yes, he did, repeatedly.  He said the elfling grew in a room."

"No, he didn't.  He said 'womb'."

"Well, I heard 'room'.

"Maybe 'womb' is a synonym for 'room'," suggested Elladan.  "Anyway, what I want to know is why he kept repeatedly bringing up the subject of eggs.  We didn't ask him anything about cooking!"

"As for me," declared Anomen, "I would like someone to explain why a cord would be needed to connect the elfling to the Elleth.   It hardly seems necessary.  After all, the elfling can't very well run off!"

 "And I don't understand what seamen have to do with the answer to our question," exclaimed Elladan.  "We are miles from the ocean!"

"Yes," said Anomen, "but even more nonsensical was his bringing up the matter of contractions.  We didn't ask him about grammar or spelling, so why would he need to talk about contractions?

"But not as nonsensical as all that talk about erections!" exclaimed Elladon.  "I can't imagine why he thought it necessary to bring up the subject of architecture!"

"And what was the organism that Erestor kept mentioning?" complained Elrohir.  "There are a lot of organisms in the world.  Whichever one did he mean!?"

Elladan shook his head. 

"Do you suppose?" he suggested gloomily, "that he was mainly speaking in metaphorical terms, as is his custom?"

"Wonderful," groaned Elrohir.  "That would explain why nothing he said made any sense.  Everything was symbolic, probably, or worse, allegorical!"

"We are never," Elladan said sadly, "going to learn where elflings come from.  Which means that we will never have any little elflings of our own."

Elrohir and Anomen stared at him.

"Elladan, why ever would you _want _any elflings of your own?" exclaimed Elrohir.

"Well," said Elladan, puzzled, "why else would we need to know where they come from, if we weren't planning on having any of our own?"

"Elladan," said Anomen, "tell me truly.  Would you like to be raising an Elrohir?"

"Oh, no!" exclaimed Elladan, horrified.

The three looked at one another.  Suddenly the matter of where elflings came from seemed much less important.

Elrohir was the first to arise.

"I'm hungry," he announced.  "Anyone for raiding and pillaging?"

The other two elflings eagerly leaped to their feet.  And so, Reader, this story will end where it began—in the kitchen.


	3. A Fire Is Lit

**Folks, this tale has**** taken a sudden turn toward angst.  You may blame it on my daughter, who walked into the room cuddling a plot bunny in her arms.  Oh, yes, I have not abandoned "Returning from the Dead."  I actually have a chapter almost ready to go.  It should be up by midweek.**

_Viconia__: _I googled Baldur's Gate.  Looks interesting.  Basically, though, writing these stories has become my 'game' (a very time-consuming one!) so I don't think I'll be entering the AU of role playing any time soon.

_Jebb__:  _Ai!The irrepressible elflings almost go too far in this installment!

_Dragonfly: _Oh, boy, you get to look forward to explaining the facts of life.  He he!  ^_^  Fortunately for me, my daughter is nearly 15, so we've already had 'the conversation'.  (Actually many conversations taking place over a period of years starting when she was a toddler—when your kid is adopted, the topic of how families come into being has to be addressed early and often.)

_Joee__: _How _do_ you do that!?  ^_^  Anyway, I have uploaded a version that corrects the two errors you pointed out.  But I found a third error on my own.  Nyah nyah!  ^_^

Vocabulary

laes—'baby'

            Unfortunately—or mayhap fortunately—there were too many skivvies about the kitchen for the elflings to attempt another raid.  They had no choice but to wait until dinner, so they brought a good appetite with them to the table.

Mithrandir was at their table, of course.  He had not forgotten the conversation in the garden, and he could not resist toying with the elflings a little.

"So, young ones, you spend much time with your tutor, do you not?"

"Yes, Master Mithrandir," replied the elflings.

"And what have you been studying lately?"

Had anyone been watching Erestor, they would have noticed that the muscles in his face drew a trifle taut, but the tutor relaxed at Elrohir's reply.  After a moment's thought, that elfling replied, "allegory."

"Ah," said the wizard, "allegory.  A most challenging form of literature is it not?  A reader must work for the meaning of such a story, is that not so."

"Oh, yes," agreed Elladan, "very hard—and all too often the hard work is for naught!"

"Indeed?  And have you a recent example of an allegory that proved too difficult for you to interpret."

"Yes," exclaimed Anomen, "Erestor has but lately told us one that we could not make out at all."

Erestor was racking his brains, trying to remember what allegory he had recently recited to his pupils.

"No?  Well, tell it to me.  Perhaps I can shed some light upon it."

"Very well.  It starts with an Elf and an Elleth who are in love.  The Elf of course has a sword, but it is the Elleth who wears the sheath."

Erestor began to change colors rapidly, from pale to red to purple and back to pale again.

"Go on," said Mithrandir encouragingly.

"The Elf stores his sword in the Elleth's sheath.  We think that might mean, allegorically, that the Elleth wishes to assist the Elf.  She will take care of him as best she can."

"Oh, yes," snorted Glorfindel, who had a fairly good idea of the nature of the 'allegory', "the Elleth will indeed 'take care of'' the Elf."

Erestor shot an angry glance at Glorfindel, then looked appealingly at Elrond.  That elf-lord raised his eyebrows helplessly.

"Oh, I am leaving out a part," Anomen suddenly said.  "Before the Elf stores his sword in her sheath, he has to construct an erection of some sort—I guess a building where they can spend time together."

"I see.  What happens next?"

            "Well, once the sword has been put away, the Elf and the Elleth have a conversation.  It sounded as if the Elf does all of the talking, for Erestor said he is the one who ejaculates."

            "Your tutor is quite right.  What happens next?"

            "An organism and some seamen come into the story.  We found that part quite confusing.  But the next part perhaps makes sense.  After all that talking, the Elf and the Elleth must be hungry, I suppose, because the Elleth provides an egg, or sometimes two, because they are very hungry, I suppose."

            "And then?"

            The Elleth ties herself to her elfling with a cord.  I suppose that is why we say that a Naneth is very attached to her laes."

"That sounds like a very plausible explanation," Mithrandir said gravely.  "Pray continue."

"Next the Elleth must use contractions.  I suppose that up until this point they have been speaking very formally, and now they are less so."

"It is certain," said Mithrandir dryly, "that by now the time for modesty would have long passed, and so too the time for formality, I guess." 

Erestor could bear no more.

"Anomen," he squeaked, "uh, you have remembered many of the elements of the tale, but, as you have said, you do not understand the significance of all that you heard.  Let us not further trouble these folks with the lesson; tomorrow we may return to it."

"Yes," said Elrond, speaking up at last, "I really do believe, Erestor, that you should cover the matter again, at more length, perhaps, and in greater detail.

"Greater detail!" moaned Erestor.

"Why, Erestor," chuckled Glorfindel, "you ejaculate.  Or was that just an organism caught in your throat?"

"Glorfindel," warned Elrond.

The balrog-slayer grinned but said no more.  Erestor resumed cycling colors.  Mithandir studied his plate, confining his smile to his eyes.  As for the elflings, they turned their attention to their food, blissfully unaware of both the consternation and amusement that they had brought to their elders.

Later that evening they brought a bit more consternation down upon their elders, although considerably less amusement.  As they listened to the conversation during the remainder of the meal, the elflings learned that Mithrandir had arrived in Rivendell leading a string of pack horses.

"Yes," Mithrandir was saying to Elrond, "I plan to transfer the lot to a wagon once I reach the Great East Road.  I can keep them better protected from the elements in a wagon, I think.  Otherwise, a little bit of rain, and all my labor will be for naught!"

The elflings were of course fascinated.  What had Mithrandir brought with him?  Whither was he bearing it?

"You go to a great deal of trouble for these Periannath," declared Glorfindel.  "Do they even appreciate it?"

"Judging from the 'ooohs' and the 'aaaaahs' that I always hear, I think, yes.  Their excitement is sufficient recompense for my efforts.  The little ones, in particular, more than adequately repay my trouble, so thrilled are they at each display."

Observed Elrond, "Some day Mithrandir likely will have reason to be grateful that he has found a way to ingratiate himself with the Periannath."

Erestor gave a doubtful laugh.

"How can that be possible, Elrond?  They are naught but Halflings.  How could such folk, small and weak as they are, ever requite his benevolence?"

"Ah," replied Elrond, "never forget that there are some deeds may be attempted by the weak with as much hope as the strong.  Indeed, such is oft the course of deeds that move the wheels of the world: small hands do them because they must, while the eyes of the great are elsewhere" (Bk II, chap. 2).

To this latter part of the conversation, the elflings gave no heed, for by now they were consumed with curiosity.  As soon as they were dismissed from the table, they ran off to the stables.  Since Mithrandir had been so tight lipped in the garden, they were determined to resolve the mystery on their own, even though they knew perfectly well that they had no business trifling with the wizard's belongings.

Once they reached the stables, they found that the packs had been removed from Mithrandir's horses and piled alongside one wall.  Elladan stood guard while Anomen and Erestor unbuckled one of the packs.  Inside were paper packages of various sizes with sticks coming out the ends.  The paper packages were of different colors, and many of them were made in the shape of animals.

"Paper on sticks?  Whatever is so wonderful about that," said a disappointed Elrohir.

"Mayhap there is something inside each package," suggested Anomen hopefully.

Elrohir poked a finger through one of the packages.  Some sort of powder sifted out the hole.  They could not make out what it was.

"It is too dark in here," complained Elrohir.  It was dusk.

"Aye, but we'd best not kindle a light.  You know the rule against candles or lanterns in the stable!"

If there was one rule that the elflings would never flout, it was the one against bringing fire into the stable, for a moment of carelessness might set the hay alight.  Between the two of them, Elladan and Anomen dragged the pack from the stable.  Elladan ran back to the Hall to fetch a candle.  When he returned, Elrohir ripped a bigger hole into the paper and held the candle near.

"I see smaller paper packages within the larger one.  Each is a different color."

They ripped a few of the smaller packages open.  The powder inside each matched the color on the outside.

The elflings sat back on their heels, bewildered.  Elrohir set the candle upon a rock.

"The Periannath must be easily amused," said Elladan, "if they become excited over paper bags filled with colored powder."

Elrohir nodded.

"Aye, they must be.  Well, we had best hide this one package and repack all the others."

He rose to his feet.  As he did so, his foot bumped the stone upon which the candle sat.  The taper fell over onto one of the torn packages.  The edge of the paper ignited.  The next they knew, there was a small explosion.  A burning fragment of paper was thrown onto another package.  It, too, exploded, setting off the next one, which set off the next.

"The pack!" screamed Elladan.  "Don't let the pack catch fire!"

Anomen was nearest the pack.  He seized one strap and tried to drag it away from the exploding packages of powder.  Ai!   Just then fiery fragments from a bursting package fell into the pack.  There was a mighty roar.  Projectiles soared into the sky.  Elladan and Elrohir were thrown to the ground, and Anomen was sent flying several feet.

Elladan and Elrohir staggered to their feet, gagging and coughing, covered in soot and dust.  They looked about for Anomen.

"Anomen's on fire," shrieked Elrohir.  "Go for help!"

Elladan sprinted for the Hall.  Ripping off his tunic, Elrohir ran to Anomen and used the garment to smother the flames in his hair and on his back.

Within minutes Elladan had returned with help, for alerted by the explosions, Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, and Mithrandir had already been hastening toward the stable.

At first they thought Elrohir was the worst injured, for he was crying bitterly, his dirty, sooty faced streaked with tears.

"It's my fault," he wept.  "I knocked over the candle."

"Where are you hurt, my son?" Elrond asked anxiously.

"I'm not hurt a bit, but, oh, poor Anomen!"

Anomen was sitting up by then, and although he was as dirty as Elrohir, no injuries were apparently—from the front.  It was only when they examined his back that they realized how truly seriously he might be hurt.  His hair was scorched to the scalp, and the back of his tunic had been burned away.  Ever so carefully, Glorfindel lifted him in his arms and began to carry him toward the Hall.  Elrond and Mithrandir hurried ahead to prepare salves and bandages.  As for Erestor, he walked alongside, holding and stroking one of Anomen's dangling hands, for the elfling was beginning to moan.

Elrohir and Elladan trailed along behind, Elrohir crying and Elladan trying to comfort him.

"Ada is a great healer, and Mithrandir is very wise.  You will see—Anomen will recover."

But Elrohir could not be comforted.


	4. Just Right!

Thanks to the following for their responses:

_Coolio02, LucielHex, Silent Banshee, Kitsune, Darlin'DarlaDog, Jebb, _and _Farflung__.___

Congratulations to LucielHex for opening her Fanfiction account.  I think you did mention something about that.  Didn't you?  Wait.  Let me check.  ^_^

I have to warn you that in this chapter I do resolve one cliffie, only to introduce the next.  Mwah hah hah!

            Of the adults, Mithrandir had initially been the most frightened by the elflings' ill-advised adventure, for he had a very clear understanding of the potential for harm that lay hidden within the innocuous-looking powders.  How awful it would be if the fireworks that he created for the enjoyment of younglings were to lead to the death of one of them!  However, Elrond and the other Elves had only to look at Anomen's burned back to realize the peril that faced the elfling.  True, Elrohir had beaten out the flames before they scorched through to the undermost layer of Anomen's skin, but, still, in some places the burns had at least destroyed the top layer, and everywhere else he had been blistered.  Infection was a very real risk, as was dehydration.  Elrond and Mithrandir hovered over the elfling throughout the night, bathing and anointing his wounds, and insisting that he sip as much miruvor as he could stomach.  Glorfindel kept busy running to fetch whatever was needful and checked on the twins from time to time.  Fortunately, in a manner of speaking, they had soon cried themselves to sleep and needed no further attention until morning, when at last Elrond was able to attend to their bruises, scrapes, and minor burns.  As for Erestor, he sat by Anomen's side and kept hold of his hand the entire livelong night, although he later denied having done that at all, claiming that he had merely checked the lad's pulse from time to time.  

Now, several days later, the crisis past, Anomen moved restlessly upon the bed.  He had had to lie upon his stomach and so could not look out the window.  The position also made it difficult for him to read.  Next to looking out the window, reading was his preferred activity when he was forced to remain inside.  Of course, he often had visitors, but not as often as during the first few days.  Elladan and Elrohir had healed from their own bruises, scrapes, and burns and had returned to their lessons.  That meant that the mornings, when all his friends were occupied with their daily tasks, had become particularly tiresome.

            "Ada," Elrohir had begged, "can't we be excused from lessons until Anomen is better?  That way we could keep him company."

            Elrond's eyes turned a steely black, and Elrohir quailed.

            "You are not getting a holiday from lessons as a reward for rummaging around where you had no business rummaging.  You should have more lessons rather than fewer!  Indeed, now I think on it—"

            Elrohir retreated faster than a cave troll at the first sign of dawn.  Elladan told him he should consider himself very, very lucky.

            "If you had provoked Ada into adding to our punishment, you would have had me to fear as well as him," he said fiercely.

            Elladan had reason for vehemence.  Not even counting the guilt they felt, their punishment was very heavy.  First, for Erestor they each had to write an essay on how wrong it was to touch another's belongings without permission.  Not even Anomen was excused from this exercise, for Erestor insisted that the elfling dictate the essay to him, which was probably more painful than writing it would have been.  Erestor simply would not let Anomen move from one sentence to the next until every word had been adjusted to a nicety, and Anomen felt that he would go frantic, so long did this torment last.

Next, Mithrandir set the twins to feeding, watering, currying, grooming, and tending to the hooves of each and every one of his packhorses.  They also had to oil and polish their tack and clean out their stalls.

Glorfindel's turn came next.  He decreed that until the turning of the moon Elladan and Elrohir would have to retrieve arrows from the targets but would not be allowed to shoot any of their own.  This was a bitter blow.  They had to spend hours watching the other elflings practice with their bows.  After each volley, Glorfindel sent them trotting onto the field to retrieve the spent arrows while all the other elflings watched and grinned.  Most of them had been on the receiving end of the twins' pranks, so they were an appreciative audience, as Glorfindel had known they would be.

Elrond's punishment was probably the most creative.  While the elflings had been examining Mithrandir's pack, the wizard had been telling Elrond that he would be very happy to put on a fireworks show for the residents of Rivendell.  Elrond had graciously accepted this kind offer.  Just then, the elflings had set off their own inadvertent display.  The next night, the elflings' injuries having been attended to, Elrond decreed that the show would go on.

"But," he said grimly, "Elrohir and Elladan are to spend the duration of the show in the wine cellar."  As Anomen could not see out his window, he probably could not have witnessed the spectacle anyway, but just to be sure, Elrond ordered that a quilt be draped over the casement.  All three elflings were suitably miserable as a result.  The twins thought Anomen got the better of this state of affairs because he could hear the fireworks while they could only feel the vibrations.  Anomen, however, thought _his_ plight was the more piteous because, being able to clearly hear the fireworks, he was the more tantalized.

Much of the punishment for Anomen had been waived, of course, because clearly he could not shovel manure or pick rocks out of hooves.  Moreover, the adults at first had been very gentle with the elfling, for he really was quite ill.  As soon as they realized, however, that Anomen would recover—and probably without scarring, even—they had decided to behave a little more sternly toward him, to impress upon him the wrongfulness of his actions.  Mithrandir in particular believed that it behooved him to be brusque with the young one.  Perhaps he was feeling a little guilty because, after all, he was the one who had neglected to ask that his dangerous goods be locked in the armory.

But to himself, the wizard merely declared, "After all, he needs to be taught a lesson!"

And so, when at last the time arrived when he should resume his journey toward the Shire, he came in to check on Anomen once more, but he did not smile or speak kindly to him.

"Here, now, let me see your back one final time," he commanded in his most businesslike manner.  Seems to be healing well.  No sign of scarring.  You certainly have been luckier than you deserve!  I shall tell Elrond so"

With that, the wizard abruptly jammed his broad-brimmed hat upon his head and strode off, leaving a most disconsolate elfling.

"I have been so very bad," Anomen thought to himself, "that Mithrandir will never forgive me."

The elfling began to cry.  At very nearly the same time, Erestor arrived to give Anomen a grammar lesson.  (Elrond had decreed that Anomen, like Elladan and Elrohir, was to keep up with his studies—at least insofar as it was possible for him to do so.)  Erestor was appalled to find Anomen crying, for he had never seen the elfling shed so much as a tear.

"Anomen, you are in pain!?"

"Yes," sobbed Anomen, "my heart hurts!"

"Your heart!  I shall fetch Elrond at once."

"But he can't fix it!  My heart is broken, just like in the stories.  Also, I have got that lump in my throat that people are always talking about!  I shall starve to death because I am sure I can't swallow!"

"Ah," said Erestor wisely.  "You are feeling sad.  No doubt you miss playing outdoors.  Don't fret, Anomen.  You will still have an eternity left in which to play.  Soon you shall be healed and shall be getting into mischief as merrily as before—but a little more wisely, I hope!"

"No," said Anomen mournfully.  "Mithrandir is angry with me.  He doesn't like me now."

"Nonsense!  Mithrandir considers himself your mentor and guardian.  He is quite fond of you and concerned about your welfare."

"Not anymore.  He is going away, and he didn't even say goodbye to me."

"We'll see about that!" declared Erestor, and off he stormed.  He went straight to Mithrandir's chamber, only to find a servant removing the linen for washing.

"Where is Master Mithrandir?" demanded the tutor.

"He's gone just now, Lord Erestor, off to the west, I think, to those wild lands where the Periannath dwell."

Erestor spun about and hastened to the stable, where he ordered a surprised stable hand to bring out the fastest horse.

"Lord Erestor, that would be Lord Glorfindel's horse.  Are you sure—"

"Yes," ordered the tutor.  "In this matter the utmost haste is necessary.  You may give my apologies to Lord Glorfindel for requisitioning his horse."

The stable hand reluctantly did as he was told, and Erestor mounted Glorfindel's great steed.  The only reason the horse did not throw him at once was that he was so surprised at Erestor's effrontery as to be curious.  Whatever, wondered the steed, was this peculiar Elf up to?  The stallion thus obligingly trotted out through the gates of Rivendell.  Erestor then directed him to make for the Great East Road, urging him to gallop all the while.  The horse cooperated for a time, but, when no adventure was forthcoming, he at last grew tired of the game.  He stopped, lowered his head, and began to graze.  Erestor began to shout, "Noro lim!  Noro lim!"  At last, frustrated, the tutor began to pummel his feet against the horse's flanks.

This indignity was of course too much to be borne.  The stallion reared and dumped the tutor onto the ground.  Erestor tried in vain to remount the steed.  Each time the horse snorted and shuffled away.  In the course of centuries of research in the library, Erestor had acquired a few words of Black Speech—purely for academic reasons, you understand!  Now he bestowed these words liberally upon the stallion.  In response, that horse flattened his ears and bared his teeth.  At that, Erestor wisely retreated and began to follow Mithrandir on foot.  "After all," he thought to himself, "Mithrandir is leading a string of pack horses.  He can't be traveling too quickly.  I will catch up soon enough."

Unfortunately for Erestor, the wizard had encountered one of his Dunadain friends, who had invited him to turn aside and spend the night at his camp.  Erestor was not tracking Mithrandir in any real sense, for he did not look for any signs of his passing; instead, he was merely making his way straight toward the Great East Road, which the wizard had been planning to follow.  Thus the tutor did not notice that the Istar had turned aside.  On Erestor marched, hour after hour, until well after dark.  No sign of the wizard.  At last he had to acknowledge that he had somehow missed Mithrandir's path.  He also realized that it was much too late for him to return to Rivendell that evening.  He would need to find some place to shelter for the night.  Clouds were moving in, and the night promised to be rainy and cold.

He searched about for a long time, as it grew darker, colder, and windier, but the only possible shelter that he came upon was a cave.  He threw a few pebbles within and heard nothing stirring.  He advanced a few feet in and then retreated, repulsed by the foul odor.

            "Something has died in there, I am sure," he said to himself.  He turned to look elsewhere for shelter.  Just then the first drops of rain fell.  He stood irresolute.  Then it began to rain in earnest.  The rain poured down in sheets, as if he were standing underneath a waterfall.  Moreover, a flash of light and sudden crack of thunder, quite close, made Erestor jump.

That decided matters.  In he crawled, wrinkling up his nose in disgust but consoling himself with the thought that his stay would not be long.  Also, he had more pressing concerns than the stench.  He had not eaten or had anything to drink since morning.  In the flickering light cast by the lightning bolts, he spied several laden plates—three to be exact—upon a crude trestle table.  He crept over to investigate.  Bread.  A hunk of bread on each plate.  He picked up the first and carefully bit into it.  Paw!  Too moldly!  He picked up the second piece of bread and sampled it.  Ugh!  Too stale!  He nibbled on the third piece.  Ah!  Just right!  And he gobbled it all up, his concern for the niceties of decorum having fled with the sunlight.

Of course, he was now thirsty.  Next to each plate stood a wooden cup.  He sipped from the first.  Paw!  Too sour!  He sampled the next.  Ugh!  Too sweet!  He tried the third cup.  Ah!  Just right!  And he quaffed the brew with a gusto that he did not often demonstrate when dining at Elrond's table.

The beverage had been somewhat stronger than the Dorwinion wine to which Erestor was accustomed.  In addition, he had journeyed very far that day.  Those two facts no doubt explain why Erestor suddenly felt very tired.  He looked about for someplace upon which to lie, and he spied three pallets.  He went over to investigate.  Paw!  The blankets of the first were infested with lice!  He looked over the second pallet.  Ugh!  It was crawling with bedbugs!  He examined the third.  Ah!  Just right!  (The blankets on that pallet had only lately been stolen and thus were not yet riddled with vermin.)  Erestor settled himself upon that pallet and in spite of the stench, he was soon lost in elven dreams.  Reader, you are no doubt praying that these dreams do not turn to nightmares.  Of course, whether they do or not remains to be seen.


	5. The Caterpillar

_Farflung__: _Yes, I think the vehemence of a parent's reaction is directly proportional to the fear they have felt for the safety of their children.  Or, in other words, _ahem_, the more the kids scare the crap out of the parents, the more the parents try to scare the crap out of the kids!

_Jebb__: _Sorr—rry.   ^_^   It was indeed "Erector and the Three Trolls."

_Dragonfly: _Yes, Gandalf is going to be sorry.  By the way, have you had a chance to read "The Return of the Elf," the side story that I posted a few days ago?  I kind of thought that it would be one that you'd find particularly interesting.  There is a note to you at the top of the story!

_Melissa: _"Mwah hah hah," cackled the maniacal writer, rubbing her hands with glee.  "I am driving my readers insane—or at least making everyone else _think_ they are!"  ^_^

_Kitsune__: _Yes, this is a riff on "Goldilocks and the Three Bears."

_Karri: _Yes, Anomen is recovering.  Lucky for him that I need to keep him around and in reasonably good health!

_Joee__: _Here you go!

_MoroTheWolfGod__: _Here you go, too!

As Erestor slept, the habitual tenants of the cave were on their way back.  Normally they stayed out all night, but, like Erestor, they had been driven to seek shelter by the storm.  So they trudged through the downpour, heavily laden with sacks and barrels.

"Pity the trader got away," mournfully observed one, Morris by name, although he went by Moe.

"Aye, 'e looked like a right juicy one, 'e did."  This came from a bald gentleman whom the others had nicknamed Curly.  His true name had been forgotten long ago.

"Leastways, 'e did leave us his packhorse," said the third troll, who was called Larry, short for Lawyer.  How he came by that latter name, no one knew.

"Aye, but 'e was too tough 'n stringy for my taste," complained Moe.

"Packhorses is in gen'ral, in't they?" retorted Larry.

"I bin thinkin'," said Curly.

"Again?  Bad habit, that," Larry warned.

"We shoulda brung the packhorse home afore we 'et 'im.  That way we wouldna be stuck luggin' all this loot."

"Whyn't you suggest that _afore_ we et 'im?" complained Moe.

"'Cause I wuz hungry," admitted Curly.  "Didn' occur to me until I was a'polishin' off the 'ooves."

Reader, no doubt by now you have surmised that these, ah, gentlemen were in fact Cave Trolls.  On they plodded through the rain, making their way toward their home, which just happened to be a certain cave.  I did mention that they were Cave Trolls, did I not?

They had not long been in their cave when they realized that someone had been there before them.  Larry lumbered over to the table and was the first to notice that something was amiss.

"'Ere now, someone's bin a'gnawin' on my bread!" he declared indignantly.

That brought over Moe, who discovered that his plate, too, had been violated.

"Someone's bin a'gnawin' on _my_ bread!"

Curly scuttled over.

"Someone's bin a'gnawin' on my bread!  And they ate it _all_ up!"

Next Larry lifted up his cup and stared at it balefully.

 "Someone's bin a'sippin' from my cup!"

Moe echoed his lament.

 "Someone's bin a'sippin' from _my_ cup!"

Curly mournfully turned his cup upside down.

"Someone's bin a'sippin' from my cup!  And they drank it _all_ up!"

The befuddled Trolls moved on to their sleeping area.

Larry spluttered with indignation.

"Someone's bin a'tryin' my pallet!"

Moe echoed him.

"Someone's bin a'tryin' _my_ pallet!"

Exclaimed Curly, "Someone's bin a'tryin' my pallet!  And he's still in it!"

Now, Trolls are fairly stupid, but presented with a sleeping Elf, they knew what to do.  In a trice they pounced upon Erestor, and before his eyes had come back into focus, he was orc-tied.

"Les' eat'im straightaway," gloated Curly.

"You dwarf-brain," jeered Larry.  "Doncha remember?  We came back 'ere in the firs' place 'cause it's rainin'.  We cain't get no fire to burn in sich a downpour."

"Anyway," Moe pointed out, "we jus' now et that horse.  I'm not all that hungry.  Whyn't we have him later, for a snack, like?"

"Awreet," grumbled Curly, giving in reluctantly.  He was always ready to eat and didn't think the lack of fire an obstacle.  He liked his food raw and wriggling, he did.

The Trolls settled themselves around their table, and, having nothing else to do, drank themselves into a stupor.  It stopped raining at length, but the Trolls, fortunately for Erestor, were too addled to notice.  Curly dragged Erestor off his pallet and tossed him unceremoniously into a corner, and the three of them settled onto their respective pallets and soon were filling the cave with the thunderous snores for which cave trolls are famous.  Trolls are often blamed, and not unjustly, for triggering avalanches on account of their stentorian breathing whilst asleep.

For a little while Erestor, bruised and dazed, lay quietly where he had been dropped.  Soon, however, his wits returned to him, and although it was hard to think amidst the racket made by the sleeping trolls, one thing was clear to him.  He had to get out of the cave.  If he could do so by dawn, the trolls would not come out at once to pursue him.  He would have time to find a sharp rock against which to rub his bonds, and, once they had frayed sufficiently, he would snap them and fly hence as swiftly as an eagle.  But how to escape from the cave?  His ankles were bound, and the trolls had had the good sense to tie his wrists behind him so that he could not use his hands to free his legs.  Erestor sighed.  He lay on his stomach, his chin up so that it would not scrape against the rocky floor of the cave.  Then he pulled up his legs underneath him, bending at the knees so that they were drawn all the way up under his belly.  Of course, this meant that his bottom was sticking up in the air, but there was no one to see, and, anyway, this was not an occasion for standing on one's dignity—and, besides, he couldn't stand in the  first place!

From that position, Erestor wriggled his chest forward until he was lying flat again.  Then he repeated the process, drawing up his legs until they were all the way under his belly, then inching his chest forward until he lay flat again.  This was a most peculiar form of locomotion, rather like that of an inchworm, but it brought him steadily toward the entrance to the cave.      

Unbeknownst to Erestor, someone else was drawing near the entrance to the cave, albeit from the opposite direction.  Glorfindel had seen his stallion trotting through the gates of Rivendell, making his way back toward his stall, and of course the balrog-slayer had immediately hastened to the stable to learn why his horse had (apparently) been taking an afternoon constitutional _sans_ Glorfindel.  The stable hand looked frightened when he saw him.

"My Lord, I am so sorry.  'Twas the Lord Erestor's command."

"The Lord Erestor told you to let my horse out?"

"No, my Lord.  He insisted on riding him."

Ah, so that would explain why the horse had come back riderless.  Glorfindel grinned.  He was going to enjoy chaffing Erestor over this.  He bade the stable hand bring out a spare horse, and mounting his stallion and leading the horse, he departed to fetch back Erestor.  He thought briefly about leaving the tutor to make his way back on foot, but he thought it would be much more entertaining to 'rescue' him.

Glorfindel easily found the spot where his horse had thrown Erestor, and he just as easily followed Erestor's footprints.  Even after it began to rain Glorfindel had no trouble tracking his friend, for the ground was soft and each step Erestor took his foot sank a little into the ground.  Glorfindel trotted on merrily.  At last the rain stopped, and he felt even merrier.  Suddenly, however, he noticed something that caused all his merriment to vanish in an instant.  Erestor's footprints had been overtaken by those of largish creatures.  Without a doubt, these creatures were Trolls.  Glorfindel urged his stallion into a gallop.  As he rode, he scanned the landscape anxiously for any sign of a campfire.  To his increasing relief, he saw none, and at length he arrived at the entrance to the cave.  Erestor had not yet been eaten, apparently, but he had been added to the Trolls' larder.  Well, he would just have to go in there and fetch Erestor out, hopefully without precipitating a messy battle, as he knew from the tracks that he would have to slay three of the creatures in rather close quarters.  However, judging from the snores that were rattling the branches thereabouts, a fight would probably not be necessary.

Indeed it was not.  Before Glorfindel had even dismounted from his horse, he was startled at the sight of gigantic brown caterpillar inching its way out of the entrance to the cave.

"What in Middle Earth is that!?" the balgog-slayer muttered.  In all his years of fighting fiends and foes, he's never seen anything like _that_!

He took a second look.  That caterpillar was—Erestor!  A very dirty Erestor, and a very tired Erestor, but, actually, Glorfindel had to concede to himself, the tutor was moving along at a fairly good clip—for a caterpillar, that is.  Glorfindel dismounted as quietly as he could and crept toward his friend.  He stood watching him a few minutes before he spoke.

"An interesting mode of locomotion, that."

Erestor yelped and his head shot up.

"Glorfindel," he hissed, "how long have you been there?"

"Longer than you would have liked, I am sure," grinned Glorfindel.

He drew forth his knife and cut Erestor's bonds.  Erestor sat up and began to massage his wrists.  Glorfindel knelt down before him and likewise massaged his ankles.

"Whatever possessed you to try riding my stallion!?"

"I needed the fastest horse available.  I was trying to catch up with Mithrandir."

"Why ever for?  Did Elrond want a message sent after him?  If so, why didn't he send Lindir or one of the other riders?"

"I myself wished to speak to Mithrandir—and to drag him by the beard back to Imladris!"

"My friend," said Glorfindel gravely, "it is a _very_ bad idea to beard a wizard.  It can result in all sorts of nasty consequences."

"But Mithrandir has behaved abominably!  He left without saying good-bye to Anomen, and the poor little elfling is quite distraught.  You know as well as I that above all else the lad fears losing the love of those whom he holds dear!"

Glorfindel did know that, although he had never put that knowledge into words.

"Very well.  As I came after you, I noticed the point at which Mithrandir turned off in the company of someone, one of his Dunadain friends, I expect.  We shall make straight for that spot, and by morning the wizard shall be in our grasp—uh, metaphorically speaking that is.  Do not touch his beard!  Come, let us mount up.  As you see, I have brought a spare horse."

Here Erestor looked a little abashed.  He eyed the horse up and down.

"You'll have to boost me," he muttered.

"What?"

"You'll have to boost me.  I'm too stiff and sore to mount unassisted."

Struggling mightily not to grin too broadly, Glorfindel nodded his acquiescence, and prepared to boost Erestor onto the horse.  The tutor, however, suddenly stayed him.

"Don't tell the elfling!" he begged.

Glorfindel made as if he did not understand.

"Don't tell him what?  That my horse threw you, that you inched your way out of a cave like a caterpillar, that you were too stiff to mount your horse unaided, or that you care deeply about his welfare?"

Erestor considered briefly.

"All of the above."

"Not a word," promised Glorfindel.

With that, Erestor allowed his friend to help him mount the horse.  They drew the horses' heads about and rode off in pursuit of the unsuspecting wizard.  Soon, they were resolved, Mithrandir was going to learn the cost of opening wounds in the soul of an elfling who, while arguably fatherless, was by no mean friendless!


	6. Mithrandir The Storyteller

My thanks to all the reviewers of the previous chapter: _Konzen__, Silent Banshee, Jebb, dd9736, Farflung, Dragonfly, Melissa, Kitsune, Karri,_ and, of course, _Joee__,_ who planted the seed for the story.  My thanks also to the reviewers of the earlier chapters.  Your encouragement is _greatly_ appreciated.

While Glorfindel had been riding through the rain in search of Erestor, Mithrandir had been hunkered down with his Ranger friend.  The wizard was very glad he had accepted the invitation to join him at his camp because, between the two of them, they had managed to contrive a shelter for Mithrandir's packs.  The wizard was sure that the fireworks would otherwise have been spoiled.

Now the two sat companionably before a fire, smoking, steam arising from their damp clothes.  The Ranger suddenly withdrew his pipe from his mouth.

"Someone approaches."

He listened intently.

"On horseback."

He listened some more.

"Two."

"Friend or foe?" asked Mithrandir.

"Elves," the Ranger said at last.

The Ranger relaxed and put his pipe back in his mouth.  The two waited patiently.  After awhile, Mithrandir, too, could hear the approaching horses, and at last Erestor and Glorfindel hove into view.

The Ranger arose to his feet, but Gandalf remained seated, as befit his age and dignity.  From his comfortable seat by the fire, he commenced introductions.

"Halbarad, no doubt you are acquainted with Elrond and Glorfindel."

"Aye."

"And Elrond and Glorfindel, I think you have met Halbarad son of Halbarad."

"I believe so," said Glorfindel, bowing slightly.  "Wasn't your father the son of Halbarad son of Halbarad?"

"That is true," said the Ranger.

"And the latter was himself the son of Halbarad son of Halbarad"

"Yes."

"Your family is very fond of the name of Halbarad," Erestor observed.

"Apparently so," came the answer.  As you have no doubt realized by now, Halbarad was a master of the laconic speech of the Dúnadain.

"Well," interjected Mithrandir, "now that Halbarad's genealogy has been cleared up, to what do we owe the honor of this visit?"

Glorfindel spoke bluntly.

"You must return to Rivendell on Anomen's account."

Mithrandir dropped his pipe in alarm as he leaped to his feet.

"His injuries have proved to be more severe than we thought!?" he exclaimed.

"Actually, no," admitted Glorfindel.

"But he has taken a turn for the worse?"

"In a sense, yes."

Mithrandir drew his bushy eyebrows together.

"It is not your place to speak in riddles, my friend.  _I _am the wizard!"

"Mithrandir," Erestor declared, "is it not true that you left without saying goodbye to Anomen?"

Mithrandir stared at him.

"You want me to return to Rivendell because I did not bid Anomen farewell?"

"In a word—yes."

Mithrandir spluttered.

"Of all the arrant nonsense—"

"It is not arrant nonsense," Glorfindel interrupted.  "I would sooner see someone break his limbs than break his heart."

This was really quite an extraordinary pronouncement for the balrog-slayer, and both Erestor and Mithrandir gaped at him.  The Ranger, meanwhile, pulled on his pipe in amusement.  Elves and wizards—delightful creatures, really.  Good for endless amusement.  Scarcely outdone by Dwarves in that department.

Mithrandir cleared his throat.

"Well, well," he harrumphed, "if you really think it is that important."

"I do," Glorfindel declared firmly.

"Oh, very well, then.  But my horses will not thank you!  To have come all this way and now to have to turn back!"

Halbarad spoke then.

"If you would like, Mithrandir, I will lead on your train of horses.  I know of a good place to camp just past the Last Bridge, and I shall await you there."

"Ah, yes, I know that place.  Very well.  It shall be so.  Erestor and Glorfindel, I shall return with you to Imladris.  By the by, why did it take the two of you to deliver this message?  Erestor, I should have thought that you would have remained in Rivendell."

Erestor blushed, and Mithrandir quirked a bushy eyebrow.

"I see that there must be a story here.  Well, well, maybe later."

The Elves helped the Ranger reload Mithrandir's horses—the wizard was still standing, or sitting, as it were, on his dignity—and he departed for the west whilst the others headed east.  They road rapidly, not stopping to rest, and they arrived at Rivendell by nightfall.  Mithrandir did not bother to change his clothes but went straight to Anomen's chamber, bursting in without knocking.

"Mithrandir!" exclaimed Anomen.  "What do you here!?"

"My lad, I was half way to the Shire when I realized that I had forgotten to say good-bye to you.  When I realized my oversight, I hastened back at once."

"Did you!?  Oh, Mithrandir," cried Anomen, tears filling his eyes, "I thought you were angry with me and that's why you said nothing!"

"Angry!  Well, a little irritated, perhaps, for what you did _was_ quite wrong."

"Oh, yes!" Anomen said with such contriteness that had the wizard actually been angry, he would have given over the emotion in an instant.

"Well, well, all is forgiven, my lad.  And I hope you'll excuse the absent-mindedness of an old Man." 

"Oh, of course, Mithrandir.  I don't mind a bit."

It must be said, however, that the tears coursing down his cheeks belied that last claim.

Mithrandir pulled a chair next to the bed.

"Here," he said kindly, "I will sit with you for awhile.  Would you like me to tell you a story?"

"Yes," sniffed Anomen.

"Is there any particular story that you would like to hear?"

Anomen thought a minute.

"Could you explain Erestor's allegory?"

This was not quite the story that Mithrandir had in mind, but as he looked at Anomen's hopeful face, the wizard did not have the heart to say no.

"Very well.  Now, Anomen, what Erestor was trying to convey, in his inimitable fashion—"

"Inimitable?"

"There is no one quite like Erestor—would you not agree?"

"Oh, yes," Anomen replied fervently.

            "Well, what Erestor was trying to describe to you, in his not-to-be-imitated fashion, is how two Elves come together from time to time in a union that is so close that their bodies become as one."

            "An Elf and an Elleth?"

"Generally an Elf and an Elleth," said Mithrandir.

Anomen noticed the word 'generally'.

"Not always an Elf and an Elleth?"

Under his breath Mithrandir muttered an imprecation in the Quenya tongue.  He had gone and introduced a complication into the tale that Elrond would probably not appreciate—Erestor certainly wouldn't!  He would have to choose his words more carefully.

"I think, to help you understand, I will describe the simplest case.  Once you comprehend matters, I may add more details.  For now we will talk of the union between an Elf and an Elleth."

Anomen nodded.  He had enough experience with Erestor to know that sometimes a subject could be explained _too_ thoroughly.

"First," said Mithrandir.  "A bit of anatomy.  An Elf has an ecthel.  An Elleth for her part has a sheath, a kind of passageway within her body whose entrance is very near the place where she makes water.  The ecthel can fit within the sheath.  Now I know you may have difficulty imagining yourself fitting your ecthel into anything, but when you are older, you will find that your ecthel will upon occasion grow longer, thicker, and stiffer.  Then it will do nicely, I can assure you."

Anomen immediately wondered how Mithrandir had come by his confidence in his facts.  Blissfully unaware of this, the wizard waited a few minutes for Anomen to digest the information he had just been given.  At length the elfling nodded and looked inquiringly at him.  The wizard resumed the lesson.

"Now I believe that your curiosity first arose when you began to wonder how elflings came to be.  The Elleth contributes a little something—we call it an egg—and the Elf contributes a little something—we can it the seed.  When the egg and the seed combine, the elfling begins to grow within the Elleth's womb, a special chamber within her just for the nurturing of elflings.  The egg has been inside the Elleth all along, and the Elf sends the seed through his ecthel and into the Elleth's sheath, whence it makes its way to the egg."

"And the seed must be very small, else it would never fit through the ecthel."

"Indeed, it is quite small, as is the egg.  An amazing amount of growth takes place within the womb, for every Elf now living started from such small beginnings.  Do you understand?"

"Ye-es," said Anomen slowly, "but I still have some questions.  This is also how a stallion and a mare start a foal, is it not?"

"It is how all mammals bring forth their young."

"The mare gives the stallion a pick-a-back ride.  Does the Elleth give the Elf a pick-a-back ride?  And if she did, wouldn't she injure her back!?  We do not go about on four legs like horses!"

Mithrandir smiled.

"You are right.  An Elf and an Elleth lie down when they want to bond together, usually in a bed, both for comfort and privacy.  It is possible for an Elf to lie down upon the back of an Elleth, but, as they are not shaped like horses, it works very nicely for the two to face one another.  Moreover, they find it pleasant to look upon one another's face when they join in this fashion.'

Anomen considered this for a moment.

"Does the Elf lie on top or does the Elleth?  I should think the Elf would squash the Elleth because usually they are taller and heavier."

"Believe me," Mithrandir assured him, "the Elf is careful not to 'squash' the Elleth.  Besides, you need to give the Elleth more credit for her sturdiness.  Do you think it is easy for her to carry an elfling about in her womb, or to push it out when the time comes for it to enter the world?"

"No," said Anomen thoughtfully.  "I know it was not easy for my Naneth, for she died trying."

Mithrandir had forgotten that Anomen had more reason than most elflings to be curious about childbirth.

"Aye, that is true, Anomen," he said softly, "but never forget that, whatever happened afterward, your Adar and your Naneth came together as one in order to bring you into this world."

"I will try to remember," Anomen said sadly.  Then he brightened as other thoughts occurred to him.

"So Elrond must have done that three times," Anomen said wisely.  "No, only twice, because Elladan and Elrohir are twins!"

"Actually, Anomen, an elfling does not come into being every time an Elf and an Elleth join as one.  The bond in itself is reason enough for Elf and Elleth to come together, for it is a very pleasant experience."

"So Elrond did that more than twice!?"

"Undoubtedly," replied Mithrandir dryly.

"Glorfindel has no elflings."

"True," said the wizard.

"But since elflings do not always result, that does not mean that Glorfindel has never—"

"Quite right, my lad, quite right!"

"And Erestor—"

"Really, Anomen, all this speculation is fruitless," protested the wizard.  As were the liaisons, he added to himself.

Anomen looked disappointed.  Then he eyed Mithrandir speculatively.

"Mithrandir, have you ever—"

"You don't see any wizard maidens hereabouts, do you, Anomen?"

"No, but since you said that it wasn't always an Elf and an Elleth, I thought—"

"For an invalid, you think too much," grumbled Mithrandir.  He arose.

"Now, Anomen," he said kindly, "you must sleep.  I shall still be here in the morning, and I shall come in to give you a proper farewell.  Will that do?"

"Yes," replied Anomen, happiness plainly to be seen upon his face.  His questions—most of them—had been answered, and his beloved wizard was not angry with him.  All was right with the world.  Contented, he had drifted into elven dreams even before the wizard had closed the door to his chamber.

Outside, Mithrandir leaned his head upon the door and exhaled.

"You have been hard at work, Mithrandir?"

The wizard glared at Erestor, who stood smirking.

"I will have you know, Erestor, that Anomen has very cleverly deduced that even though _you_ have no elflings, that does not mean you have never—"

"Mithrandir," exclaimed Erestor, horrified, "what have you been telling him!?'

"No more than you told him, only mayhap a little more clearly."

Erestor was indignant.

"I am his tutor.  How dare you meddle in my curriculum!?"

"Don't worry," replied Mithrandir dryly.  "I have left some things for you to clarify.  I did not define 'erection', 'orgasm' 'semen', or 'contraction'.  I would by no means deprive you of the pleasure of explaining those terms.  Good-night!"

With that, Mithrandir strode off, leaving behind a rueful Erestor, who, for all his protestations, would not have minded in the least if the wizard had finished the lesson in its entirety.  Perhaps, he thought hopefully, Anomen, with most of his questions answered, would pursue the subject no longer.  But he doubted it, Reader.  Oh, how he doubted it!

**THE END! (?)**


End file.
